


cosmic latte (the average color of the universe)

by wistfullywishing



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Online Dating, Sharing a Bed, Tinder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 18:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20246974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wistfullywishing/pseuds/wistfullywishing
Summary: Exactly a week ago, after Donghyuck and his friends had gone to the dining hall together and returned to eat in Renjun’s dorm room, Jeno had looked up in the middle of stuffing broccoli and orange chicken into his mouth and said, half-chewed food and all, “I think you should get make a Tinder profile, Hyuck.”Donghyuck had wheezed around the straw of his guava juice and said, “I thinknot.”





	cosmic latte (the average color of the universe)

It starts, as many love stories do, with Tinder.

0100 AM 120918

In the future, whenever Donghyuck tells anyone the story of how he and Mark met in person for the first time, he will blame short-term memory loss and conveniently skip over the detail about how he almost blinds himself with hot soup during the very first time he and Mark eat together.

The noodle shop Mark chose is small and quaint, neatly tucked in between a tattoo parlor and a boba place, and if Donghyuck closes his eyes, he can pretend this is a late night romantic date of some sort, the sort of chance meeting that turns into more that practically every k-drama Renjun has watched depicts a variation of. Not what it really is, a food run after a study session at the library.

He opens his eyes. Still just friends for now.

They’re seated at the bar, knees knocking together occasionally, and Donghyuck’s been here once before with Renjun and Chenle, back when they still sort of hung out with Yukhei and it was Yukhei’s birthday, but he still feigns ignorance and lets Mark describe all the menu items to him.

“I’ll have the same thing as you,” he says afterwards, and he watches in awe as Mark grins and his entire face lights up from the inside out, like Christmas lights draped over a tree.

“Good choice,” Mark tells him.

Here’s something he likes about Mark: he doesn’t look assertive, but he is. It’s the opposite of Donghyuck himself, who’s utterly useless at everything requiring actual adult communication with strangers.

When the waitress comes, he lets Mark order for the both of them, and then Mark’s eyes are inquisitive as he trains them on Donghyuck, asking if he wants water, and Donghyuck has barely even opened his mouth to confirm his thirst when Mark’s hopping down from his barstool to get water for the both of them from the small cooler tucked into the corner of the restaurant.

(Donghyuck has a brief flashback to the time he and his friends were crammed in Donghyuck’s dorm room, studying for midterms, and Renjun’s hawklike gaze had lingered on Jeno placing a phone order for them across the room.

He thinks of the way Renjun’s eyes glittered as he watched Jeno rattle off his go-to order, confidently knowing the exact way Renjun liked his burrito bowls, and how he turned to Donghyuck and said, “Ugh, that’s hot,” with Jeno peering at them from over there by the closet with the phone glued to his ear and a takeout menu in his hand.

Donghyuck knows exactly what Renjun had meant now.)

“So,” is what Mark starts with as he smoothly slides back into his seat, carefully passing Donghyuck a plastic cup of water. “Is there anything you won’t eat?”

_Ass,_ Donghyuck’s inner self snorts, in a voice that sounds a lot like Jaemin. _Maybe in the future. If I find someone I really love. _

“I don’t think so?” he answers out loud. It’s as truthful as he can get while still being socially acceptable. “Honestly, I’m probably the least picky eater I know. Oh, except for sea cucumbers and bitter melon, I won’t eat those.”

“That’s understandable,” Mark says, nodding. “I don’t like those green melon fruits.”

“The— which green melon fruits?” Donghyuck asks, puzzled. “You mean honeydew?”

“No, not that,” Mark waves him off. “I can’t remember what they’re called.”

“Not watermelon, right? Otherwise I might have to reconsider this friendship.”

Mark gives him a dirty look, offended. “Here, I’ll look them up,” he finally decides, biting down on his lip in concentration while pulling out his phone and opening the search engine. After a few seconds of searching — Donghyuck watching the whole procedure curiously — he solemnly locks his phone and looks up.

“Well?” Donghyuck prods. “What’s the verdict?”

Mark reveals, “It’s cantaloupe.”

“I’m— Mark,” Donghyuck says gently, using the same tone of voice that Jisung goes for whenever he’s suggesting that Chenle’s a damn _fool_. “Cantaloupes aren’t green, they’re orange.”

He points this out with glee, somewhat mystified (but mostly entertained), and watches as Mark’s face colors slightly in embarrassment when he realizes his own mistake.

“Shut up!” Mark grouses, flustered, shoving Donghyuck lightly with his shoulder when Donghyuck snickers. “The outsides are green, okay!”

“They’re really not! They’re like this light-ish color with that weird texture!”

“Oh my god, stop making fun of me please and just let me be embarrassed in peace.”

“If it helps,” Donghyuck mollifies, “you can make fun of me for not really knowing how to use chopsticks.”

“Wait, you don’t know how to use chopsticks? We’re eating noodles?”

“No, like, I can get the food into my mouth perfectly fine, but whenever I visit my older relatives they always judge me for not holding them properly, or whatever.”

“_I’m_ judging you,” Mark says, squinting at Donghyuck as he slides his disposable chopsticks out of their paper sleeve and breaks them apart, Donghyuck copying his action and checking for splinters. “I can’t believe it wasn’t a thing at your house. I’m pretty sure I knew how to use chopsticks before I could use a fork.” He smirks at Donghyuck. “Should we ask for a fork for you?”

“I— stooop!” Donghyuck whines, swatting Mark and relishing the giggle he lets out. “I might be pants at them but I can still eat perfectly fine with chopsticks!”

And two minutes later, after Donghyuck has decided that he likes Mark a whole lot and their food has arrived, he proceeds to confirm that he’s actually pants at using chopsticks and completely expose his incompetence when he manages to somehow flick hot soup into his eye three seconds into starting to eat.

Donghyuck wants to _die_. He really played himself with this one.

“Are you okay?” Mark is glancing his way in concern, alarmed by the quiet “_ow_!” Donghyuck had hissed, but Donghyuck swears up and down that he can detect faint amusement if he looks closely.

“Fine,” Donghyuck grumbles, pressing the napkin Mark passes him to his face, “I’ll just be blind, I guess. And embarrassed.”

The corner of Mark’s mouth twitches. “Wouldn’t be either of those things if you just knew how to use chopsticks correctly.”

“Eat your noodles, Mark.”

Exactly a week ago, after Donghyuck and his friends had gone to the dining hall together and returned to eat in Renjun’s dorm room, Jeno had looked up in the middle of stuffing broccoli and orange chicken into his mouth and said, half-chewed food and all, “I think you should get make a Tinder profile, Hyuck.”

Donghyuck had wheezed around the straw of his guava juice and said, “I think _not_.”

And then an hour and a half later, after Jeno had done two things, which were 1) giving Donghyuck a speech on how everyone in the city was on Tinder and that it didn’t have to be serious and 2) leaning over Donghyuck’s screen after he grudgingly made a profile and swiping right on the first person to superlike Donghyuck because “it’s a courtesy thing, Hyuck!,” never mind that Donghyuck wasn’t interested and then had to suffer through a slightly awkward conversation in which he had to make it clear he wasn’t interested when the boy asked _so what made you swipe on me ;) — _

_Anyway, _after Jeno had successfully done enough damage for the night with these two actions, Donghyuck was curled up on the corner of Renjun’s bed, swiping past profile after profile.

(It gets kind of addicting, okay? Donghyuck blames Jeno for everything.)

“This is pointless,” he complained after another two minutes of swiping left. “Turns out I’m just not attracted to anyone in this world.”

“You already have like ten matches,” Jeno pointed out, again sticking his nose where it didn’t belong. “I think you need more pictures. Can you upload your prom pics? The ones where your makeup looked really good.”

“Give me that,” Donghyuck huffed, yanking his phone out of Jeno’s grabby hands. “No, you don’t get to help me choose my Tinder pictures. I’m asking Renjun.”

Renjun, sitting at his desk, watched them argue with a feigned sort of disinterest over the top of his laptop screen, open to a video of EXO’s comeback performance on MCountdown. “Can you put that egg selfie with the star stickers? ‘Cause I think it would be funny.”

0145 AM 120918

“What do you want to do after this?” Mark is asking, reaching for the bill and pulling out his wallet, and Donghyuck looks up from his bowl of noodles slowly, eyes shining.

He’s silently been arguing with himself over whether he should ask for Mark’s number and ask him if he wants to do this again sometime, and he’s not saying that he’s been eating slowly on purpose because he figured afterwards Mark would walk him back to his dorm and they’d both go to sleep and forget about this, but that’s exactly what he’s saying.

As it is, Donghyuck barely manages to stop himself from raising an eyebrow — _you mean to tell me there’s more, what, you’re not tired of my presence yet? Mark wants to hang out with him longer despite him completely embarrassing himself?_ — and he hopes the smile he gives Mark looks more confident than it actually is.

“Whatever you want, I’m up for anything,” he replies easily, passing the checkbook to their waitress. “We still have our backpacks though, so there’s that to take into consideration. Please don’t make me carry my entire life around the city.”

“We could go back to my dorm and chill in the lounge?”

It’s an obvious choice, Mark’s dorm building being a lot closer and nicer than Donghyuck’s, and worst case scenario, Donghyuck knows that Renjun’s apartment is right across the street. So he’s got an escape plan covered.

But more than that, there’s something about the way that Mark gives him one of those soft smiles that makes Donghyuck inexplicably trust Mark not to kill him.

When he tells his friends the story later, Jeno’s gonna smack him and call him a fool, but Jeno isn’t here right now to convince Donghyuck that he knows better than to go to a near-stranger’s dorm. He barely even knows Mark, but his intuition likes the way Mark’s eyes scrunch into half-moons when he laughs quietly, how he seems like he’s holding himself back from letting loose entirely in front of Donghyuck, as if he’s worried he’ll scare him off.

“I’m okay with that,” Donghyuck pushes his empty noodle bowl away from him and catches Mark’s phone screen lighting up out of the corner of his eye, “You have a notification, by the way.”

Mark reaches for his phone and snorts when he gets a good look at the screen. “My roommate wants to know if I’m coming back tonight,” he shows Donghyuck the text from someone named _Daniel Kang_, “It means he wants to have sex with his girlfriend.”

“Love that for you,” Donghyuck snickers, tugging Mark out of his seat. “Come on, lead the way.”

(“Where did you say you were from again?” Donghyuck asks, glancing over. He doesn’t think Mark ever told him, and judging from the slight surprise that flashes across the other’s face, he’s probably right.

“Vancouver,” Mark says, watches Donghyuck’s impassive face as he places the name. He can hear the playfulness in Mark’s voice, see the crinkles of his eyes when he teases, “Do you know where that is?”

Bitch.

“I— of course I know where Vancouver is!” Donghyuck insists, indignant. It’s mostly the truth; he can remember that the city is in the general British Columbia area in Canada, but not much else. He takes a gamble, “So the weather here is… different from home?”

“Not really,” Mark chuckles, quiet as he guides Donghyuck through the chilly park, one hand steady on his arm. “Where did you say you were from?”

This is something he can answer with confidence even with the warmth of Mark’s touch distracting him. “Jeju,” Donghyuck says absently. “Not to be dramatic, but I definitely wasn’t made for this cold winter weather.”

“Which is why you stay in your room all day.”

“Wow,” Donghyuck smiles, turning to acknowledge Mark again. “You already know everything there is to know about me.”)

1220 AM 120918

They’re standing side by side in the elevator on the way out of the library when Mark blurts, “You look really young, like, younger in person than in your Tinder pictures.”

He looks like he’s been waiting forever to say this.

Donghyuck blinks. “Huh. Really? You wanna hear a story?” He waits for Mark to nod before continuing. “Over the summer during vacation I was getting professional pictures taken as like, a coming-of-age thing, and the photographers thought I was fifteen, and then I had to be like _‘lol no I’m going to college in the fall cause I’m actually eighteen’_ but yeah. So it’s not just you, I guess.”

“Interesting,” Mark says.

Only it isn’t really, because Donghyuck’s about sixty percent sure that the reason behind Mark’s observation is because he told Mark sometime during the night that he’s never tried alcohol before, unlike the majority of his friends, and now that fact is messing with Mark’s head, giving him this image of Donghyuck being young; innocent and fresh-faced and pure.

Either that or Donghyuck just has a baby face, but that’s not so bad either because in his old age he won’t look a day over thirty.

(“I think I would be a lightweight—”

“Oh, you’d definitely be a lightweight,” Mark very obviously lets his eyes rake over Donghyuck’s smaller figure, but it’s not in a creepy way, just blatant to make a point. “I mean, your size.”

“I guess I’m just not comfortable putting myself in a situation where I’d be out of control,” Donghyuck finishes simply.

“That’s valid. Though, if you ever want to try it and you’re with me, I’ll take care of you,” Mark murmurs, smiling.)

0205 AM 120918

“Do you think the practice rooms are open right now?” Mark asks, hesitating at the elevator buttons inside his dorm, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Donghyuck wasn’t born yesterday, and even if he was, Mark’s Tinder bio literally only highlights two things, _violin and pre-med. _

He knows what Mark’s doing. But truth be told he’s curious anyway, and he’s not going to stop Mark if he wants to show off.

“We can check if you want?” he offers, voice high, head tilted to the side in the way that he knows makes him look extra innocent, and when Mark turns to look thoughtfully in his way Donghyuck throws him a shy smile just for good measure. “Anyway, I want to hear you play.”

Mark looks stricken.

_Boom, caught him, _Donghyuck thinks triumphantly. The photographers from vacation did tell Donghyuck that he had a very compelling smile.

(And that’s how they end up in the smallest of the practice rooms in the dorm’s lower levels after they checked the piano room and the larger practice room, Mark pulling the door open to see a boy just sitting on the ground in the dark on his phone, his concerned expression as he paused and asked, “You good man?”

_Big fat mood_, Donghyuck thought.)

Mark tosses his backpack down with the promise to “be right back!” and Donghyuck lazily selects a chair but ends up sitting criss-cross-applesauced in it, furiously scrolling past _yo hyuck it’s like 2 am are you coming back tonight _from Jaemin and begs for updates on his sad love life in the group chat with Jeno and Renjun.

“What does your shirt say?” is the first thing Mark asks when he’s back from trampling down the stairs with his instrument in tow. Donghyuck doesn’t hear him coming up behind him and is startled in the middle of sending _GUYS SDFGH I LIKE HIM A LOT EVERYTHING HE DOES MAKES ME LIKE HIM MORE N MORE _to his group chat (after he’s let his roommates know that he’s not dead, of course).

“Aish… don’t do that—” Donghyuck catches his phone, cradling it to his chest after almost flinging it across the room at Mark’s face. “Me? My shirt?”

The unimpressed look Mark gives him says _dumb, who else?_

“Uh…” Donghyuck pinches his shirt between two fingers and pulls it away from his chest, craning his head down to read it like he hasn’t worn it a thousand times before. “‘_No Guilt All Pleasure_,’” he recites, pleased that Mark noticed and was interested enough to ask. Donghyuck got this shirt on sale and loves a man that can appreciate a good deal.

The grin that slowly spreads across Mark’s face is like warm honey on toast. “That’s edgy as fuck,” he leans down to whisper, voice low and tone ironic. The last word is punctuated with an extra sort of breathiness, and it feels like they’re sharing a secret joke but it’s so stupid at the same time that Donghyuck feels the need to turn away to hide his silent laughter.

“What are you gonna play for me?” he asks instead, watching Mark taking his violin out of its case, prepping his bow and strings and performing some other checks that Donghyuck doesn’t understand.

“Okay, this is what I’ve been working on in private lessons,” Mark lifts his bow to his violin. “Tell me what this sounds like.”

And then he begins to play.

0225 AM 120918

Mark finishes his piece, the melody coming to a natural pause, and he looks up from his sheet music to where Donghyuck is sitting, affecting a casual pose. “That’s what I’ve been working on,” he explains, and it would look smooth if he weren’t fidgeting with his bow, “Thoughts?”

Donghyuck squashes down his internal word mess and panics to find the right description.

He didn’t expect this.

This, being: Mark starting to play, his positioning belaying someone with years of practice and experience under their belt, and his look of quiet concentration and fury, like he’ll die if the notes don’t come out exactly how he means to deliver. And it might not even be about the music itself, but just how it’s clear how much Mark _cares_, which is more than can be said for most people.

Truth be told, Donghyuck doesn’t know enough about music in order to be able to tell how good Mark is at his instrument on the scale of _Kid Who Took Lessons When He Was Younger_ to _Professional Violinist,_ and his extent of musical training is playing the recorder in fourth grade, but even he can see that Mark is _good _good (definitely better than Jeno) and also way, way above average.

“Uhhhh,” he searches, remembering Mark’s earlier request, “Trainwreck? But in a good way!” he amends immediately, seeing Mark’s eyebrows draw up in worry. “Like, sorry, I didn’t mean your playing! Your playing is good, really good,” _god why didn’t he lead with that_, “I just meant the piece you’ve been practicing sounds like a train, but in one of those action movies where it goes off the tracks! That’s what it sounds like to me.”

Donghyuck grimaces, seeing Mark’s eyes doing the annoyingly cute crinkle up thing again; this is the part where he’s going to be laughed out of the room for his musical ignorance. “You’re very talented,” he adds, as a last ditch effort to save his dignity.

“You have an imaginative mind,” is what Mark replies, and the rounding out of one cheek gives away how hard he’s trying not to smile. “I’ll take it as a compliment.” He waves his bow, poking Donghyuck’s nose lightly with it, and even though his movements are careful, Donghyuck still flinches.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. “What, don’t you trust me? I have control over this, I’m not going to hit you.”

“God, _no_,” Donghyuck complains, ducking with Mark’s next bow flourish, Mark’s giggles warming him from the inside out. “I’m terrified that you’re going to accidentally poke my eyeball out. Or what if you get my facial oils on your violin strings?”

“Oh, real talk though,” Mark says, crowding into Donghyuck’s space and positioning his arms. “This bow is really expensive. Actually, the violin is more expensive than most people my age have.”

“Weird flex but oka—”

Elbows out, Donghyuck learns the correct way to hold a bow, and he’s absolutely _not_ sweating when Mark places it in his hands and lets go. He doesn’t think his insurance will cover this, _oh god._ “Take it back, please,” he almost begs.

It’s scary how much Mark trusts _him_.

“I can’t be held responsible for this; my heart rate is going through the roof right now— oh, thank god,” he groans when Mark takes his instrument back, out of Donghyuck’s unworthy hands. Donghyuck can go back to the normal questions now, “Do you have a favorite composer?”

The way Mark looks right now reminds Donghyuck of how Jeno’s eyes get when it’s pasta day in the dining hall, or when Renjun buys him boba. Almost catlike in satisfaction.

“Bach, probably,” Mark answers.

(“Lies,” Jeno will hiss later when Donghyuck is narrating the story. “No violinist likes Bach. Even if he did proceed to serenade you for like two hours. I’m saying this based on my personal experience as first chair violinist of the Seoul Youth Symphony.”)

“Oh, that’s cool,” Donghyuck says, suddenly remembering two things. The first is that he used to play the piano when he was younger and the second is that he hated Bach. “Really? Why do you like him so much?”

“I think it’s really interesting how his music has layers,” Mark murmurs, eyes scanning his sheet music as he flips pages in his binder. He gestures to a measure at the top of a page with musical paraphernalia printed over it. “Like, see here?”

Mark taps the spot for emphasis, and if Donghyuck squints and leans forward a bit he can make out a few notes with his limited ability to read music that’s been dormant ever since he quit the piano, “there’s two different layers of melody going on over here, and they’re two separate voices.”

“Can you play it for me?” Donghyuck asks sweetly, because he knows that’s what he’s supposed to say, but then he forgets to actually listen when Mark plays the bars.

Because when the other boy turns towards the music stand, Donghyuck’s eyes zero in on a suspiciously colored, purple splotch on Mark’s neck, one that’s exposed directly beneath the room’s fluorescent lights from the way that he stretches to place his chin on the rest.

His brain _short-circuits. _

When Mark is done showing off, he turns to Donghyuck expectantly, like a child eager for praise, and it’s really such a shame that Donghyuck barely heard his playing. It was probably lovely.

Part of him knows he should hold back because curiosity killed the cat after all, but he really just has to know.

Donghyuck blurts, “Is that a hickey on your neck?”

It’s absolutely _hilarious_ how fast Mark flusters, squeaking out “_Shuttup_!” and immediately slapping the hand that’s not holding his violin over his neck, almost taking off both their heads with his bow in the process.

“No, wait!” Donghyuck almost shouts, floundering in between bouts of laughter. “I meant! I’m asking because I know violinists have violin hickeys, so I didn’t know if it was a violin hickey, or a _hickey_ hickey,” he needs someone to save him from drowning over here, _what a disaster_, he’s waving his hand so hard that it’s going to fly off of his arm, “ya feel?”

Now that the question is out there, though, he can guess the answer from Mark’s reaction. Donghyuck would never admit it, not even under threat of torture, but it’s maybe a teeny, tiny bit hot.

“Sorry,” Mark says with a wobbly voice, looking down at the ground like he regrets whatever he did to earn that particular badge of honor.

“No, it’s like you told me before,” Donghyuck says. He didn’t mean to make Mark feel bad; it’s not like he didn’t already know Mark is sexually active, anyway.

“I feel like I betrayed you,” he whines, placing his instrument down and peering through the little window in the door of the practice room. “By the way, do you wanna move to the piano room? Whoever was in there just left.”

“Mark, that’s sweet, but like,” Donghyuck helps pick up their things, bringing it over to the other room as Mark puts his violin away, “you literally just met me four hours ago. You didn’t do anything wrong. What are you apologizing for? You’re fine.”

“I guess,” Mark acquiesces. His bottom lip trembles a little as he walks over to the edge of the room, opens up the standing piano along the wall and takes a seat on the bench, whipping an iPad out from his backpack and placing it on the ledge where sheet music normally goes. “What kind of classical music do you like?”

“Tchaikovsky?” Donghyuck says, stepping behind Mark and leaning over his shoulder to type his pick into the search bar of the open safari page on his tablet. “I’m sure it’s at least in part a side effect of being a dancer, probably. Like, the Swan Lake score kills me every single time. It’s _so_ good.”

Mark clicks on Images and selects one of the results that comes up to Donghyuck’s search for Tchaikovsky’s iconic Swan Lake Op. 20 Act II No. 10. He enlarges the photo, then squints at his iPad for a moment. “Can you hum this for me?”

Donghyuck does, and Mark joins in with a beautifully sightread rendition not even twenty seconds later.

Is there anything Mark the pre-med violin boy wonder can’t do? He’s as close to perfect as it gets, apparently. The kind of boy everyone’s parents would want them to bring home.

Donghyuck is suffering. When he voices his thoughts, Mark laughs sharply.

“I think that’s enough practicing for today,” is the first thing Mark says when he’s done.

“If I get back into ballet, we can start a duo act,” Donghyuck points out. “You can play the instruments and I’ll do the dancing.”

Mark only grins, flashing a row of pearly teeth at Donghyuck. He’s a little relieved to see that they’re not as white as Jaemin’s teeth. That would just be unfair.

“Also, the clock just hit three and both of us are definitely supposed to be sleeping.”

“Oh, right, we should probably head to your dorm soon,” Mark says, eyes flickering with exhaustion and something darker. Donghyuck’s suddenly aware of how tired he is himself.

“Alright, let’s go in like, five minutes,” he suggests, going to sit down. “I just need to momentarily rest my soul. I literally have no energy left, man it’s so late, we should not be awake.”

1130 PM 120818

They’re at the library.

He’s thinking, when beside him Mark absently reaches for his water bottle. The grating sound of metal clinking against the tabletop breaks Donghyuck’s reverie, makes him turn from his laptop to look at the other.

Mark is unscrewing the cap and tossing his head back to take a long swig of— the bottle isn’t clear, but somehow Donghyuck just knows that definitely isn’t water.

“Coffee,” Mark whispers, seeing Donghyuck’s questioning look, which quickly transforms into an amused stare. He should’ve known; no high-functioning college student guzzles down something as healthy as _water_ like it’s their lifeline. “What?”

“You’re going to die,” Donghyuck says, disbelieving. It’s so cute, the way Mark looks genuinely caught, eyes round and wide like a child that’s about to be reprimanded for something he shouldn’t be doing. It shouldn’t be so funny, but somehow it is. _The pre-med life is so difficult,_ Jeno would sigh. “It’s past eleven.”

Mark makes a _pfft_ sort of noise in dismissal, like how Jisung does when he knows Donghyuck’s right but he’s going to keep ruining his own life anyway. “I _am_ going to die,” he declares. “I already used up all my dining dollars on Starbucks.”

He leans down to dig around into his backpack, and Donghyuck gives him a sympathetic sort of look. It’s clear that they’re already solidly distracted from their work, so he offers, his expression hopeful, “Talking break?”

Mark snorts, “yeah, talking break,” and then stretches his back so hard that Donghyuck hears joints pop.

“Are you hungry?” Mark asks seriously, and lowkey Donghyuck is; the only thing he had for dinner was free hummus from the self care event happening in his dorm’s lounge earlier. “Do you want to get udon after this?”

“I— wait really? Like, after midnight? Are any places even open?”

“I know a place,” Mark says, typing it into the Google search bar of his open tab to make sure. “Yeah, we’re good until two am. You know what udon is, right?”

Donghyuck is super offended by Mark’s dubious stare, okay, like the way Mark looks at him makes him skeptical of his own knowledge or something.

“... Yes?” Donghyuck answers, drawing out the word slowly. “Noodles, right? I’m always down for getting noodles.” He starts getting out of his chair, then pauses. “Oh, but I don’t have my wallet with me right now. Oh, I have Venmo though!”

“So funny story,” Mark begins. “I kind of broke my Venmo.”

“What do you mean you broke your Venmo?

“Like, they sent me this email that my account was suspended for—”

“Are you sure you’re not… engaging in suspicious activities, or, I don’t know, dealing drugs or something?”

“No, of course I’m not…” Mark sighs, half-defeated. “How about you can just pay me back later, or I can pay or whatever, like I’m just really hungry and I really want udon.”

Donghyuck’s nodding along before Mark’s even done talking, because same. “Should we go now?”

“Let’s work until fifteen minutes past twelve? That’s not too bad, less than half an hour away.”

0255 AM 120918

“Rule number one of throwing punches,” Mark explains, waiting for Donghyuck to copy his stance and arm position.

If Donghyuck could go about fifteen minutes back in time and prevent his past self from slumping against the back of his chair and groaning out, “_Ahhhhh, I wanna learn self-defense_,” he would not be in this situation right about now.

(“Why?” Mark had asked, genuine curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“So I can walk alone at night without being afraid,” Donghyuck drawled lazily, and then immediately regretted it when Mark perked up.

“Do you want to learn? Like, right now? Here, get up, let’s learn how to throw a real punch.”

Donghyuck had given Mark an incredulous look that meant, _you can’t possibly be serious,_ but quickly learned that Mark very much was serious when he all but dragged Donghyuck over to the empty side of the practice room.)

As it stands, the damage is already done, so there’s not much he can do when Mark instructs him, “you wanna make your fist, like, quickly dart out.”

He feels beyond stupid trying to awkwardly copy Mark’s clearly experienced demonstrations, but it helps when Mark walks over to adjust his arms, putting his arms around Donghyuck in the process. It’s hard to tell if Mark is pulling out all the stops or doing this unconsciously, and Donghyuck hopes his face isn’t flaming.

Still, despite Mark’s best efforts, it comes as absolutely no surprise to Donghyuck when Mark starts to get this sad, hopeless wilt in his expression the longer he watches Donghyuck practicing.

“It was a good first lesson,” Mark tells him afterwards, smiling kindly, though judging by his eyes Donghyuck might have permanently scarred him, and Donghyuck wants to laugh out loud at this boy who’s trying so hard for his sake.

1245 AM 120918

“Wait, so how did you end up on Tinder?” Mark’s voice betrays his curiosity, and Donghyuck thinks _oh boy there it is_. “I mean, you don’t seem like a hookup type of person.”

“I’m not,” Donghyuck says, just to get that out of the way. If there’s anything the app has taught him, it’s to shoot people down immediately before they get any ideas. “It’s a long story.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow. They’re not doing anything but talking as they walk through the streets. “We have time.”

“I had a crush on this international kid,” Donghyuck says, thinking of Yukhei. All his tall stature and boisterous charm, how Donghyuck thought he was so friendly until he realized that Yukhei treated everyone like that, and that he wasn’t special. “That’s how I met my friends, they’re Yukhei’s — that’s the guy I liked — they’re his roommate and suitemate. And then I got over my crush on him and Jeno made me get Tinder as kind of a joke, but also kind of not.”

“So what is it that you’re looking for? I just remembered that all your bio says is ‘_help.’”_

“Just, I don’t know, whatever happens, I guess. Meeting new people and seeing where it goes?” Donghyuck doesn’t say how Tinder’s been really good for his self-esteem, what with the _857 people liked you this week! Keep swiping! _notification he got yesterday. He doesn’t even think he’ll meet that many people in his entire lifetime. “But definitely not sex, hooking up just isn’t a thing for me. No sex.”

Mark is silent for a moment, before he smiles playfully. “What, you’ve never had a boyfriend?”

It’s like he sensed the change in the atmosphere and is trying to lighten up the mood to mask it. Mark’s voice is teasing, but not in a mean way, and Donghyuck, grateful for the distraction, plays along and scoffs at him.

“Of course I’ve had a boyfriend! I’ve just never liked someone enough to want to share my body with them, you know? And y’all are all weirdos anyway, where were all of you guys having sex before college? I could _never_ get it up in my parents’ house—”

They’re on the way to the ATM machine to withdraw cash because the place Mark has in mind is cash-only, and the night air is crisp, as satisfying as the crunch of a ripe apple. Mark’s saying something about his last relationship losing meaning and how he swiped right on Donghyuck because _that potato picture showed personality_ and how he takes a long time to ask someone out because he wants to make sure he really likes them first.

And Donghyuck listens wholeheartedly, a little bit starry eyed, and almost prays to god for this boy to fall in love with him.

(Mark is passing over his phone, open to a new contact page, and Donghyuck takes it with sweaty palms and types in his name along with his number before handing it back at Mark.

The first thing the other boy does is glance down with furrowed brows before looking up and exclaiming, “What, I don’t get a last name?”

“What’s your last name?” Donghyuck challenges in lieu of answering, after a moment of just staring dumbly at Mark, and in the next minute his phone chimes with a new text from an unknown number that just reads _Mark Lee,_ who then looks expectantly at him.

“Guess mine,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath, eyes narrowed as he saves Mark’s number to his phone, “when’s your birthday?”

“Uhhhh. August second?” Mark ventures, voice wavering ever so slightly like he’s unsure.

Donghyuck looks up, teeth flashing at the boy sitting across from him. “Ohhhhh, a Leo,” he drawls, eyes appraised, voice teasing. “Oh no, Leo men always end up hurting me,” he runs a hand through his bangs dramatically, mentally flashing back to that week of high school that he and Jaemin had tried dating but it ended up making their friendship weird. “I don’t know if this will work, I really don’t.”

“God, that’s too bad,” Mark agrees cheerfully, playing along. His bottom lip juts out weakly, and Donghyuck stares, transfixed.)

0340 AM 120918

“You’re so much cuter in person than your Tinder pictures,” Donghyuck tells Mark honestly as they’re stretching their limbs, working out the kinks in their muscles. “Your Tinder doesn’t do you justice, I swear.”

Mark’s brow lifts, and he pauses in the middle of cracking his shoulder joints, arms raised in the air, “really?”

“Of course,” Donghyuck says, already pulling out his phone and pushing Mark into an empty seat. “Here, sit there and look cute. I’ll show you what I mean.”

The camera shutter sound effect is heard a few times as he snaps a few pictures in rapid succession, and then Donghyuck drops into the chair next to Mark. “Oh, this is a nice one,” he notes, studying the pictures, “But I don’t get it, you’re still much better looking sitting there in front of me right now than in these pictures.”

“Maybe I’m just not photogenic,” Mark grins, sneaky and fond and wonderful all at once. Donghyuck wishes he could capture all the facets of Mark’s smile in this very instant, but it disappears before he’s ready to see it go.

Sometimes, forever is only one second long.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m the only one that knows this information, then,” Donghyuck allows, biting back a flirty smile as he shoves his phone back into his back pocket after sending the best photo to Mark. When he glances up again, his eyes track the muscles of Mark’s back, how they shift when Mark lifts his music binder and starts putting it back into place inside his blue violin case.

Mark turns back and his lips quirk to the side. “Oh really? Territorial already?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Donghyuck teases, keeping his voice intentionally lighthearted. “Should I be? You probably do this all the time, right? Charm a different boy every single night?”

He’s kidding, of course he is, but even as he says the words he realizes how badly he doesn’t want them to be true.

Mark smiles, in that quiet way of his, but something more serious gleams around the edges. “I really don’t,” Mark says, and his words are like some unspoken promise, and Donghyuck chooses to believe him.

It’s been so long since Donghyuck has liked someone like this, honest to god really liked someone — the infatuation and all that come with it. It’s been so long since he’s felt the easy smiles and quiet breathlessness, the giddy delicate heart of having a crush — and he didn’t realize how much he missed it, how _fun_ it is.

It’s a state of mind that’s all too easy to fall back into, sitting here in the silence with Mark, and just like that it all comes rushing back in. Out of everyone he could’ve met at this university, it’s Mark Lee that makes Donghyuck feel so unexpectedly out of his element, and he can’t get enough.

He doesn’t want to leave.

“I kind of want to touch your hair,” are the words that tumble out of Donghyuck’s lips before he can reel them back in.

Mark’s head snaps up, and he blinks at him, surprised. “Sure, go for it,” he answers, leaning forward in his seat and bending his head forward for Donghyuck.

Donghyuck extends his hand, and slowly, combs his fingers lightly through Mark’s hair, pausing to finger a stray curl or two. Because — floof.

(In other words, Donghyuck’s weakness, basically.)

Judging from the way that Mark suppresses a shiver when Donghyuck gently rakes his nails against Mark’s scalp, he’s not the only one.

“Wanna lay in your lap,” Mark whines, softly.

After a bit of trial-and-error and about three minutes of continuous repositioning, they end up on the floor close by the door of the practice room, Donghyuck’s back pressed against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him and Mark lying on the floor with his head pillowed on Donghyuck’s thighs.

And Donghyuck’s just stroking Mark’s hair, and Mark has his eyes closed, but the sweetness of his smile is fucking synaesthesia at it’s finest, Donghyuck swears.

The atmosphere is calm and it’s— it’s really something.

His eyes are trained on the mole along the curve of Mark’s neck when Mark’s eyes shoot open. “I almost fell asleep just now,” Mark blurts, but Donghyuck can hear the exhaustion weighing his voice down, “I’m going to fall asleep.”

Laughing softly, Donghyuck tells him it’s okay if he does. Mark’s eyes flutter shut again.

And he really does just proceed to fall asleep.

_There’s a cute boy asleep in my lap what in the world do I do, _Donghyuck thinks dizzily. _How did we end up this way?_

There’s a boy who might as well be a stranger asleep on him, and he’s dazed, turning his phone in his hand to look at the time. The display reads almost four am, Donghyuck is delirious from laughter that echoes in library hallways and noodles with broth that are just the right amount of salty and from the city that never sleeps at night, and there is something so magical about this moment.

Donghyuck’s first conversation with Mark after they matched on Tinder went a little bit like this:

_YOU MATCHED WITH MARK ON 12/4/18_

Help has arrived

pls im real bad at time

management i need tips

Make a planner!

Also a calendar to hang up

with due dates and stuff

I have a chalk one it’s nice

An hour or so later — that consisted primarily of on-off messaging about essays and deadlines and Mark promising to get on Donghyuck’s ass to motivate him to do his work — at exactly nine-twenty pm Donghyuck texted that he was going to sleep in response to Mark’s _are you doing your essay _and then left Mark on read when he got a frantically typed _wait isn’t your essay due tmr wtf. _

The next morning, Donghyuck woke up at five am to write that bitch of an essay and thank Mark for his support, and then that somehow turned into daily texts about their respective days and classes: going to the gym (Mark), thinking about dropping out of college several times a day (Donghyuck), and lame physics jokes (Mark started it but Donghyuck is guilty of reciprocating). It was casual, but Donghyuck’s not going to lie and say he didn’t enjoy the attention.

From there, the rest was history.

0440 AM 120918

The time at the top of Donghyuck’s phone screen is starting to get blurry to his tired eyes when Mark breathes in the wrong way and startles himself awake.

Relief immediately floods Donghyuck’s senses, because his limbs are going dead and he honestly thought he was going to have to suck it up and just sleep against the wall for a night. Maybe wait for some unsuspecting person to find them curled up on the floor together in the morning.

_Thank god._ There would have been too many unanswered questions if that scenario had played out.

Mark stares up at Donghyuck’s face for a moment, then sighs. His voice is husky from sleep when he speaks, sending a burst of warmth through Donghyuck’s chest. “Do you want to just stay over tonight?”

_Bad idea_, Renjun would say, but Renjun can suck it because he’s not here right now.

“Yeeeeeah,” Donghyuck drags the word out, puffs air out of his cheeks. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Okay, come on.” Mark gathers himself up off the floor, moving to collect their belongings. “We have a couch, so you can sleep on my bed. I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

“No, it’s okay, we’ll figure something out. It’s your bed.”

They bicker about it the entire way upstairs.

“It’s really fine,” Donghyuck is still whispering as Mark unlocks the front door of his dorm, subtly pushing in front of him and racing to the couch in the common area. “I don’t mind spending one night on the couch, like I used to do this all the time at my friends’ room.”

Mark sighs heavily, looking up at the ceiling with the patient half-smile of someone buckling into an argument for the long ride. Donghyuck doesn’t doubt that he would literally stand here and argue with him all night if they weren’t both looking to pass out sometime in the next minute.

“Donghyuck, I’m not going to let my guest sleep on the couch,” Mark whispers with heat, yanking him up when he tries to sit down on said couch. Donghyuck takes a blind step backwards in the dark, tripping on what turns out to be the cable of a power strip on the ground, and he fumbles for a minute, his backpack throwing his weight the wrong way.

“Ack!”

Strong arms grip his shoulders as he crashes into Mark’s body, warm and solid. “Donghyuck,” Mark’s voice is breathy, and his eyes glitter teasingly in the dark. “I can play this game all night.”

“So can I,” Donghyuck insists, but lets himself be manhandled when Mark gently shoves him in the direction of his bedroom. The door gives easily without sound, unlike the one in Donghyuck’s dorm that squeaks every single time Jisung sneaks out to find Chenle.

Donghyuck steps inside the room, casting a nervous glance towards the bed underneath the window that’s occupied by two lumps that he assumes are Mark’s roommate Daniel and his girlfriend. He takes in the ambience of Mark’s bedroom: the raised beds, Mark’s messy desk, the rug that’s askew on the ground.

“Donghyuck, just get in the bed,” Mark whispers, exasperated. He turns to the clutter on the floor of his room and halfheartedly tries to straighten a few things.

It’s not as dark as Donghyuck’s own bedroom at night. Not only are the blinds attached to the window completely raised, letting in all the bright, golden city lights, but Mark’s room also faces Third Avenue, a main street for cars.

It’s _loud_. As if to prove his point, there’s an audible honk from outside, several stories below.

_This will be a challenge._

Donghyuck squints at the floor. _Are those microwaveable cup noodles stored in a box under Mark’s bed?_

Definitely college student culture.

“No, I can’t,” Donghyuck says to Mark, keeping his voice low, “like really I’m just going to feel bad since it’s your—”

“I’ll come cuddle you,” Mark promises.

Donghyuck’s eyebrows shoot up before he can control them, but luckily Mark’s face is turned towards his dresser as he moves stuff away and lovingly tucks his violin into an empty spot beside it. That’s an idea that Donghyuck’s not, he supposes, wholeheartedly opposed to.

He sits on the edge of the empty bed. “I still… feel kinda bad,” Donghyuck admits quietly, gauging Mark’s reaction. “For taking up your bed.” _Y’know, just in case he heard wrong. _Maybe he’s just tripping from being awake so long.

Mark’s eyes are bright and shiny in the dark. “Well, I’m joining you,” he teases, shrugging, and Donghyuck can’t help the way that his heart skips a beat.

He toes off his shoes, peels off his coat, and quietly climbs onto the mattress, pressing himself as closely to the wall as possible without being obvious about it. The sheets are scratchy under his fingertips, and Donghyuck’s phone reads five thirty-seven am when he tugs it out of his back pocket and places it on top of Mark’s dresser, next to a small pile of clothes that’s been shoved against the wall haphazardly.

The boy really lives like this. _Goes to show that no one is perfect after all_, snips inner Donghyuck.

“Do you want water?” Mark whispers, yanking off a sneaker and tossing his jacket over the back of his chair. “Does your phone need to be charged?”

“I’m okay,” Donghyuck whispers back. “Thanks for offering, though.”

Mark crawls into the wide, open space that Donghyuck purposely left for him. As soon as they’re laying next to each other, Donghyuck feels a small bubble of doubt start to creep up his throat.

He’s about to casually make sure he’s not smothering Mark or being weird, but before he can voice his concerns out loud and potentially make things even more awkward, Mark draws the blankets up around them, taking care to tuck them around Donghyuck.

And then he tugs Donghyuck close.

The movement is so natural, so _thoughtless_, that Donghyuck thinks, _oh, so it’s gonna be like that,_ and boldly shifts closer to Mark, tangling their legs together.

They close their eyes, and fall asleep.

0550 AM 120918

Just kidding. _Mark_ falls asleep before his eyes are even fully closed, probably, and Donghyuck, suddenly more awake now that the gravity of the situation he’s in hits him, lies as still as he can be for like, what feels like half a lifetime but is in reality most likely less than ten minutes. Just praying for the sleep gods to come and take him off to dreamland.

It doesn’t work. He squeezes his eyes shut even tighter and prays harder.

Another five minutes go by before the discomfort of his right arm’s placement starts getting to him, and Donghyuck bites down a wave of frustration as he tries to tug his arm out from underneath his side and away from the precipice of death without jostling the blanket, or worse, Mark.

No such luck. Mark’s out like a light, but the second Donghyuck moves, the action ever so miniscule, Mark’s eyes snap open.

“Are you comfortable?” Mark murmurs, his eyes fluttering sleepily. He’s so concerned. _Fuck_, Donghyuck feels so bad.

Mark? Doing this concerned act? How in the world would anyone expect Donghyuck _not_ to fall for him?

“Sorry,” Donghyuck whispers, wincing when his voice cracks. “I just… don’t really know where to put my arms. Not used to sleeping with anyone else.”

Mark lifts his head from the pillow and seriously regards Donghyuck, taking in his unsure expression. “Do you want to spoon instead?”

“I— are you sure? We don’t have to move if you don’t want, I’ll be fine like this, just give it a little while—”

“Donghyuck,” Mark says, more firmly. There’s a smile buried somewhere under the layers of his voice. He pats Donghyuck’s back gently, “C’mon, let’s spoon.”

After that, Donghyuck relaxes. The feeling of Mark’s arm wrapped securely around his waist is so nice, and it’s close to six in the morning when he finally drifts off.

(Here is a fact: the city belongs to Donghyuck, with its assorted grids and avenues — this has always made itself known to him, an instinct that’s etched into his DNA.

He’ll always come back to this, the way the skyline illuminates against a backdrop of a thousand stars in the night sky.

But underneath everything, all the nostalgia and wishful thinking, Donghyuck’s kinda stupid sometimes. Straight up.

But maybe Mark is, too. Jaemin would say that they’re both in way over their heads this time, high on the feeling of finding someone amongst twinkling metropolis lights in the dark, but Jaemin would _get_ it.

Diving in so deep is terrifying when Donghyuck has never been particularly good at swimming.

It’s more than he can handle, but chances like this only come once.

Because after analyzing all of the facts combined, only one really stands out. It’s simple; they’re in Donghyuck’s stomping grounds, but Donghyuck likes Mark already, _so much_ — so just this one time, sharing is okay. They can be on top of the world together.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Mark asks curiously, interrupting Donghyuck’s internal monologue with an arm out, preventing him from almost walking out into a busy street in his distracted daze.

Donghyuck shakes his head.

“Nothing much,” he says. “Just how all this,” he gestures to their surroundings with a sweeping motion, highlighting the buildings and shadows and how the moon hangs high up in the inky, starry sky above all of it, “is never going to get old.

There’s a pause as they both stop. Take it all in.

“Welcome to the city,” Mark says, lips drawing up in a smile like starshine.)

0640 AM 120918

When Donghyuck regains consciousness, it’s because he’s cold.

And also because it’s starting to get light outside, the sky outside the window just barely brushed with the barest strokes of pink and blue. But mostly because he’s cold.

Why is he cold?

Because _someone_ decided to hog all the blankets.

The small room is dusted with a soft glow, and Donghyuck can tell it’s early in the morning. Too early to be awake, considering what time he went to sleep. And the morning air is absolutely frigid. 

But honestly, he can’t even blame Mark that much. Mark tends to move around a lot in his sleep. It’s something Donghyuck would be annoyed by, if he weren’t so endeared by the entirety of Mark’s existence.

The funny thing is, at some point in the night he remembers tugging on the blankets in a half-unconscious, exposed-to-the-cold state, and the covers didn’t even budge an inch back in his direction, but somehow it brought Mark rolling away from the edge of the bed towards Donghyuck; scooting close again, sheltering Donghyuck snugly in his gangly arms.

Which was nice, but the blanket didn’t come back at all. But Donghyuck supposes that’s okay, because Mark radiates heat anyway.

The problem now is: it is very cold. And he really hates to wake Mark up for the fiftieth time in less than five hours, but—

“Mark,” he reaches out to shake the sleeping body lightly, “sorry, I have to pee.”

Mark hums, just barely awake, shuffling his limbs to let Donghyuck out of the bed.

On his way back from the bathroom, Donghyuck takes care to squint at the clock on the microwave in their little kitchenette.

It’s not even seven in the morning yet. Definitely too soon to be awake.

When he tiptoes back into the room, Mark is sitting up in bed and looking at something on his phone, waiting for him. Mark looks up from his screen at Donghyuck when he enters, and he smiles so warmly, so softly, that Donghyuck just immediately forgets how cold he is.

Mark’s smile is like freaking _sunshine. _Donghyuck’s heart is one pump away from just bursting altogether.

He nearly tosses himself on top of Mark in his haste to get back to sleep.

A few days ago, Jeno asked to see pictures of all the guys Donghyuck was talking to during lunch.

“Uh, none of them are that special,” Donghyuck said, fumbling with the open bag of chips in his hand and spilling several onto the table. Renjun took pity on him and wordlessly passed him a napkin. “I’ve kinda been text flirting with Yangyang? The one that’s studying computer science.”

“Can I see?” Jeno asked, leaning forward over the table to peer at Donghyuck’s phone. He felt awkward opening up Tinder in public, couldn’t shake off the awful thought of someone at his school recognizing him from a dating app or something.

“He’s cute, I guess,” Renjun said, craning his neck to see. Donghyuck pretended not to notice the way Jeno’s head snapped up at the statement, his eyes sharp and focused on Renjun for a millisecond, before he frowned.

“This one’s pretty good looking,” Donghyuck tapped to a different profile to distract his friend. “I Facetimed Xiaojun last Friday, remember? We haven’t talked much since then, though, so maybe he got busy?”

“Didn’t you say you also messaged someone who’s pre-med?” Jeno asked lazily, shoveling fries into his mouth. “He’s probably in the same classes as me.”

“Who— oh, you mean Mark?” Donghyuck took back his phone to swipe to a different set of photos, and he shoved them in Jeno’s face. “He’s pretty nice.”

“Mark, 19, violin and pre-med—” Jeno read before he trailed off, studying Mark’s pictures. “Cute dog. But I don’t think I’ve seen him.”

“He hasn’t really pulled any flirting moves on me, so I don’t really know what he’s in it for yet,” Donghyuck interrupted. “Maybe he’s being subtle about it.” He thought back to their solid conversations about time management tricks and grinding down on their respective assignments. “He’s super sweet and caring, though.”

“He’s probably smart,” Renjun quipped. “Maybe you need to hang out more with someone like that to influence you.”

A balled-up napkin went flying in Renjun’s direction as Donghyuck huffed, and in the middle of their squabbling, the topic of Donghyuck’s Tinder matches was forgotten.

0955 AM 120918

Donghyuck is the first to wake up at close to ten. He can hear Mark’s roommate, that Daniel Kang kid, and his girlfriend, whom Donghyuck recognizes as Jihyo from a shared creative writing class, quietly laughing across the room, their heads bent over one of their cell phones.

He tries to turn around as subtly as possible, blinking around the hazy light streaming in through the blinds, but as soon as he shifts in the bed Mark’s eyelids are already fluttering.

Mark cracks one eye open, processing.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck whispers, apologizing. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“S’fine,” Mark mumbles as he reaches a hand up to rub at his face. “Did you sleep okay?”

“I— yeah, actually,” Donghyuck says, surprised that Mark would ask.

The events of last night don’t quite feel real now that he can see Mark and his messy hair in the daylight. Mark’s got a light mole on the left side of his face, something Donghyuck hadn’t caught in the dark, and Donghyuck stares at it as he figures out what he should say next.

“What’s wrong?” Mark asks.

“So that happened,” Donghyuck rushes out. “I mean. Did you see that coming? Like, I personally did not.”

“Umm,” Mark says, shifting closer as he blinks the sleep out of his system, curling a hand around Donghyuck’s hip. “No?”

“Okay, same,” Donghyuck interrupts before the rest of Mark’s explanation, his tongue loose in the way it always is when he’s nervous. “I thought we were just going to the library and then going back to our rooms to sleep.”

His mind is way ahead of his words. He is in bed with a literal boy, one he just met last night. No one ever told him the correct procedure for dealing with a situation like this.

Mark, bless his soul, doesn’t seem to register Donghyuck’s internal panic. He peers closely at Donghyuck’s face, eyes round and curious and way (Donghyuck thinks) too intruding. Those eyes could probably see into his soul. “Do you wear makeup?”

The question catches him off guard. Donghyuck stares at Mark. Frowns.

“I— do I look like I’m wearing makeup?” he asks carefully, disbelieving.

Mark’s lips purse sheepishly. “No, but I didn’t know if you normally do and didn’t yesterday for some reason.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck snarks, but his heart is racing. “When you take as many eight am classes as me, you don’t have enough energy left in your soul to learn how to do makeup in the mornings. Whatever you’re seeing is how I look. No makeup. Unless you count lip balm.”

He really needs to stop rambling.

“Okay,” Mark hums, casual. He flashes a bright white smile (still not as bright _or _white as Jaemin’s).

“So,” Donghyuck prompts.

“So,” repeats Mark.

God, he’s really going to make him say it, isn’t he? Donghyuck clears his throat, eyes darting away from Mark Lee’s handsome face. “So like, what is…?”

He’s hoping Mark’s going to fill in the blanks for him, but no such luck. God forbid the romance deities ever look down favorably upon Donghyuck. “So, this,” Mark continues. “Me and you? What about it?”

“You’re talking to other people on Tinder, right?” Donghyuck asks, eyes downcast. He can’t look Mark in the eye. He just can’t do it. “Like, I’m asking because I am. That’s how it is, right?”

“Well, yeah. Everyone’s talking to more than one person.” Mark reaches up, fingers tilting Donghyuck’s chin so that he has to meet Mark’s deliberate eye contact head on.

Donghyuck flinches, but just barely.

Slowly but surely, Mark ends his sentence with, “But I’m not going to anymore.”

_It’s too early in the morning for this_, Donghyuck thinks. He sticks his hand under a pillow and lies through his teeth, “Ah, what time is it? I’m supposed to meet someone for lunch.”

(“Your pupils are dilating,” Mark takes the opportunity to point out.

“Yeah?” Donghyuck looks up through his eyelashes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well,” Mark begins slyly, “they say that when your pupils dilate it’s because you’re looking at something you like.”

“Is that— was that your way of complimenting yourself?”

A cheeky grin appears, creating an indentation in one of Mark’s cheeks. “Of course,” he admits cheerily.

And somehow Donghyuck falls all the way more.)

1010 AM 120918

Mark talks him out of throwing himself out the window in his half-panicked state like he’d planned to do as his back-up plan, so that’s how Donghyuck ends up listening to Mark gossip about his first-year writing class, their legs intertwined under the covers.

Donghyuck doesn’t give a flying fuck, _rip_, but he respects and appreciates that Mark is trying to making him feel at ease. They both know the point of the conversation isn’t to discuss the merits of pulling all-nighters on papers.

But more importantly: now that Donghyuck isn’t panicking at the thought of making eye contact with Mark in broad daylight, now that he doesn’t feel so stripped bare naked in front of this boy… there’s another problem at hand.

It’s not Donghyuck’s first rodeo, of course. He and Mark are laying face to face on their sides, squished into Mark’s bed. They only woke up less than half an hour ago, but they’ve both been glancing at each other’s lips for the past four minutes in the midst of talking about their respective plans for the day.

Donghyuck’s just going to get to the point: neither of them are willing to make the first move.

He shifts, ever so slightly, a motion that doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy next to him, who wiggles to give Donghyuck more room.

He already knows how this is going to go. One of them is going to cave eventually, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be him, no matter how much he kind of wants to kiss Mark Lee.

(Seriously. The last time he tried to initiate a kiss, he almost threw up. Jaemin can confirm.)

A telltale text tone rings through the silence. On the other side of the room, Daniel and Jihyo are discussing the merits of getting individually drunk and stoned versus both at the same time.

“Pass me my phone? There, behind your head,” Donghyuck mutters to Mark, suddenly remembering something. Jihyo laughs, loud and bright, and the sound reminds him of Chenle whenever he’s on the phone with Jisung. “Just need to text someone real quick.”

_Must be nice to be in a long-term, established, comfortable relationship_, Donghyuck’s soul salts_. To be able to just ask for a kiss without wanting to die. _

Mark twists back around, handing Donghyuck his phone, and he quickly opens up his texts, scrolls past several messages of Jeno and Jaemin asking if he’s alive, and shoots off a quick _raincheck?_ to Chenle, whom he was supposed to have lunch with today. He’s definitely going to pay for rescheduling later, but it’s Donghyuck’s turn to buy anyway.

“Oh, yeah,” Mark murmurs, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He swipes a hand through his hair; Donghyuck can tell it’s a nervous habit. “Do you have to leave to get ready for your lunch date?”

Donghyuck glances up from his phone screen, noting the subtle pout of Mark’s lips. He reaches out a hand to tug Mark back down beside him, linking their fingers. “Not a date, just a friend,” he offers honestly. “We rescheduled.”

Mark’s eyes are lighting up again before Donghyuck’s even done talking. “Okay, good,” he breathes, lying back down on his striped pillowcase, scooting even closer to Donghyuck than before. His smile pushes his cheeks up, rounding them out, and Donghyuck wants to pinch them.

“I was getting jealous,” Mark admits, voice hushed.

“Mmm,” Donghyuck hums, holding his breath. He can’t help it; his gaze darts down to Mark’s lips again. “Were you?”

Something in his expression must be a lot more meaningful than he intended, because Mark’s eyes suddenly go several shades darker, and his smile drops.

Slowly, Mark raises a finger to Donghyuck’s lips and whispers, quietly, “I have chapped lips.”

Donghyuck smiles, lips quirking to one side. “You should get Burt’s Bees beeswax lip balm with peppermint oil. It’s what I use.”

“Really now?” Mark’s leaning forward again, eyes glinting, and Donghyuck can already see this happening in slow motion, but he’s not scared or nervous, not anymore with Mark. “Donghyuck.”

Donghyuck makes a tiny shrugging movement with his shoulders and continues, “I mean, I don’t really care about that, only neither of us have brushed our teeth yet, otherwise I would’ve gone for it alre—”

Mark kisses him.

(Twenty-four hours ago, if you told Donghyuck that the nerdy violin boy was gonna finesse his heart just like that, he would have laughed in your face.

Now, though, he notes the way Mark’s eyes crinkle into little moon crescents when he smiles, how his voice wobbles between unsure and overconfident every time he looks in Donghyuck’s way and the manner in which he stands tall, subtly catching Donghyuck when his feet trip forward at corners of the city streets.

And Donghyuck thinks,_ yeah, consider me finessed_.)

1255 PM 120918

It’s not until close to one in the afternoon that Mark finally presses one last, soft kiss to the corner of Donghyuck’s lips and gently pushes him away. A small smile quirks one side of his mouth up.

“What,” Donghyuck says.

The smile grows. “I regret to inform you that I believe it’s time to get up and be productive now,” Mark says, kicking aside the blankets and sliding out of bed. He runs a hand through his hair, scrunching his nose as he does so, and holds a hand out to pull Donghyuck up.

Donghyuck ignores Mark’s outstretched hand and rolls over to face the wall, shoving his face into the bed. “Alright, well, have fun with that,” he mumbles into the pillow. “I’m going back to sleep.”

In the next instant hands are grabbing the backs of his knees, and Donghyuck shrieks, garnering the attention of Daniel and Jihyo as Mark hauls Donghyuck out of the room, bridal style.

He gently deposits Donghyuck upright on the couch in the living area, Donghyuck’s arms instinctively looping around Mark’s shoulders to steady himself as his bare feet find purchase on the couch fabric.

Donghyuck looks down at Mark. Mark looks up at Donghyuck.

“Can I have a piggyback ride?” Donghyuck asks, smiling innocently.

Mark turns around and bends. “Hop on.”

“Wait, rea— oh shoot okay!” Donghyuck exclaims, recovering from Mark’s impatient shove. He jumps up, Mark’s hands securely gripping the undersides of his thighs, and wraps his legs around Mark’s waist.

“Where to?” Mark cranes his neck around to look at Donghyuck.

“The window!”

They peer through the glass together, Donghyuck perched on Mark’s back, leaning forward to look at the market stands across the avenue and the busy streets below.

Several stories below them, pedestrians are walking along sidewalks and crossing streets through the early afternoon rush, bundled up in heavy coats and woolen scarves.

When Donghyuck finally slips out of Mark’s dorm, it’s after a promise of meeting up at the library later and several more kisses. The air outside is cold, but his heart is light and happy and carefree.

It’s a beautiful day outside.

(Stop. Rewind.)

0950 PM 120818

At this point, Donghyuck seriously doesn’t have a whole lot of expectations anymore.

He’s busy texting the group chat with Jeno and Renjun about the guy that he felt slightly bad about turning down a second date with because he wasn’t feeling the connection. But also, screw that guy.

_he was a whole 30 minutes late today to kung fu tea, _Donghyuck types furiously. _i know he’s rich and took an uber n there was traffic nd all. but still! i almost left! DO YALL KNOW HOW COLD IT WAS TODAY!!!_

He gets up until the part in his anecdote describing how the guy took his rejection well and is still commenting funny things in response to his instagram stories — which, y’know, just a liiiiiittle bit awkward — when the Tinder notification drops down from the top of his phone screen.

Come study with me?

Be productive!

Donghyuck exits out of his messages with his friends and stares at the home screen of his phone before letting out an audible sigh. His thumb hovers over the Tinder icon, hesitating in midair, before he presses down and opens up the app.

And then he just... stares at the message from Mark for so long that his screen begins to dim automatically. It’s not until Jisung gets back from putting his laundry in that Donghyuck realizes he hasn’t responded.

“Dude, are you good?” Jisung — bless his soul —questions, casting a concerned glance at Donghyuck’s phone, held limp in his hand.

_This is Jaemin and Jeno’s fault! _Donghyuck wants to yell. Okay, it’s also his own fault for getting so excited when Jaemin told him last week about the Bumble date he’d gone on, and that was because he’d been talked into downloading the app by Yerim, who was going through a breakup and using those apps to meet new people.

So in short: all of their love lives are miserable and everyone in college is on dating apps.

There’s really nothing wrong with it! At least, that’s what he’s been trying to tell himself. Where Donghyuck is from in the suburbs, where everyone seems to know everyone else, apps like Tinder are a major red flag. But here in the city where most people are on Tinder and no one takes it to heart... it can be kind of exciting, the thought of meeting an attractive stranger.

Donghyuck chalks it up to cultural differences.

And yet, it had taken _so fucking long_ for Jeno to talk him into downloading Tinder, and even now he swipes right on very few people to begin with and not anyone that gives him a bad feeling — he _definitely _unmatches people that send messages hitting him up for sex. The only thing his bio says is “_help”_, for crying out loud — it’s not like Donghyuck took the whole thing that seriously to begin with.

But then there was that bad date he went on earlier in the day and now he can’t stop thinking about how stupid it was of him to even mildly hope he could actually find someone he liked on a dating app, without that connection in real life first.

_Fuck Jeno,_ Donghyuck thinks crossly, but when he opens his mouth, what ends up crawling out of his mouth and dispersing into sound waves to reach Jisung’s ears is, “I should have never let them talk me into making a profile,” complete with a pout and a pair of arms crossed over his chest.

_You’re being dramatic, hyung_, Jisung’s eyes say when he turns to face Donghyuck, a fourth of his arm disappearing into a box of Cheez-Itz. _Don’t be a baby. _

_Fuckin’ try me,_ Donghyuck channels back. Jisung sighs and breaks eye contact.

“I know you were curious about Tinder for the longest time, but you should have just stayed curious,” he agrees out loud, sympathetic and somehow not at all mocking in the way that only Jisung can pull off. Good to know that Donghyuck can always rely on someone younger than him not to openly critique his life choices. “But what’s the issue?”

“It’s not so much that I’m let down by the people trying to hook up, because if I’m being honest, it’s like…different in the city,” Donghyuck argues, not sure if he’s trying to convince himself or Jisung more. “I just… I don’t even know! What am I doing here? Why does dating have to be this difficult?”

The universe is looking favorably upon him tonight, it seems, or maybe Donghyuck just looks extra pitiful sitting on his bed in the dark on a Saturday night, because he doesn’t have to wait long before Jisung gives up and shuffles over, fuzzy slippers and expensive sweatpants stolen from Chenle and all, to give him a hug. Donghyuck doesn’t know who allowed Jisung to grow up and start acting too cool for physical affection, but this is rare.

“If you want to meet him, you can,” Jisung tells him, his skinny arms around Donghyuck. “It’s really not that hard. Maybe he’ll be nice, you know? And if he sucks, you can just ghost him—or _not_, I know you have that complex with always needing to be polite even to undeserving assholes,” he tacks on, seeing Donghyuck fixing him with an admonishing look, “but you’re overthinking this. Don’t let a bad experience or two just scare you off from seeing everyone forever.”

“When did you grow up and get so wise?” Donghyuck asks, awe dripping from his voice like syrup as he strokes Jisung’s hair. He still remembers when Jisung was just entering high school and how he didn’t know raisins were dried grapes until Chenle told him the truth. “My own son!”

Jisung rolls his eyes, used to Donghyuck’s antics by now. “Just message him back, hyung. And just don’t worry too much about what happened with Yangyang; it’s not that deep.”

_It’s not that deep. _Truer words have never been spoken. Donghyuck might as well adopt it as his personal life motto, complete with asking Renjun to paint it on his headstone when he dies.

“Thanks, Jisung,” Donghyuck says, picking his phone up from where he threw it into his pillows. He takes a measured breath to mentally prepare himself and types out a response to Mark.

Come study with me?

Be productive!

the library at this hour?

lmao when do u sleep

The reply is instant, like Mark is also stuck indoors with nothing better to do. _What’s sleep_, he says, getting an amused snort from Jisung who’s peeking over Donghyuck’s shoulder at the conversation, his pointy chin digging into Donghyuck’s bones_. _

And there’s something that shouldn’t be there in Donghyuck’s chest, like someone lit a sparkler and it’s up to him to make sure the fire doesn’t go out. Donghyuck takes a second to consider how Jaemin is always blabbering on about fate and things that are meant to happen to anyone with working ears, and he knows… this is an opportunity if Jaemin’s ever seen one in all his years of being alive.

He takes a risk.

sometimes i wish i was stronger n taller

cause i cant go anywhere at night

or imma get mugged

so im always just stuck in my room

Yo I can escort you if you need me to

I can throw a mad roundhouse kick

bet im taking u up on that offer lol

So what’s the plan

Are we meeting at the library?

Or if u need me to pick u up first I can

wait right now?

it’s 10 pm lmao

lowkey im up for it tho

Lmao sure where do ya dorm

I can come get you

ok can u

bc i dont wanna walk

through the park alone asdfgh

Yeah sure

I'll be there in like 15

ah ok thank you so much!!

see u soon

1015 PM 120818

He can tell the exact moment when Mark sees him, because his squint morphs into something more like recognition, with maybe a flicker of hesitation combined with excitement.

It might be the fact that Mark’s dressed in casual clothes right now — unlike the button-up shirts on his Tinder — with his winter jacket zipped up and a pair of headphones looped around his neck. Or maybe it’s the natural smile he’s giving Donghyuck, but for some reason…

He’s so attractive, right here, right now, standing in front of Donghyuck. Donghyuck swears his heartbeat stutters.

_He wasn’t expecting this tonight, dagnabbit. _

“Hi,” Mark exhales with a sort of lopsided grin, breathless from the cold. His voice does something weird to Donghyuck’s insides, makes him feel warmer immediately.

It’s comfortable.

(Fast forward.)

It starts with Tinder, and the next night Mark and Donghyuck are sitting side by side on Donghyuck’s bed, leaning against Donghyuck’s prized EXO posters stuck on the wall with their legs dangling over the edge.

Both of them have their dating profiles open, and Mark carefully selects a pirate sticker with a little icon standing on top of a sand pile made up of letters spelling out _AHOY!_

“Ahoy,” Mark whispers, giggling into Donghyuck’s ear, his breath sending shivers up Donghyuck’s spine. He sends the sticker to Donghyuck.

Seconds later, Donghyuck’s phone chimes with a notification, and when he unlocks his screen there’s three more stickers waiting for him. He scrolls past ☆_ hey baby! _☆ and the one reading _snack attack!_ with a mountain of cookies and gummy bears.

“Dinner, huh?” Donghyuck snickers, pressing his finger to his screen where the icon in the last _DINNER? _sticker is staring up at him.

He closes his phone and tosses it aside to get lost somewhere in the blankets, ignoring Mark’s indignant whisper (“Wow. You just left me on read.”) in favor of reaching to tug him in by the collar of his t-shirt.

Donghyuck kisses him with peppermint lips, sticky and sweet, and he smiles against Mark’s mouth when he hears him sigh quietly, hands gripping Donghyuck’s hips tightly like he has no intention of letting go.

Donghyuck really hopes he doesn’t.

When they finally break apart, Mark’s stomach makes itself known at that exact moment, growling loudly. Mark whines in embarrassment when Donghyuck laughs at him, ducking to hide his face in the curve of Donghyuck’s neck.

“C’mon,” Donghyuck says, breathless and exhilarated. Mark’s body is warm and pliant against his, and his eyes are fond. “Let’s go get Chick-fil-A? And then we can study at the library afterwards?”

“The library sucks,” Mark grumbles, but he reaches for his backpack anyway, tossing his laptop in the back pocket. “I’ll go if you let me buy me a caramel macchiato from Starbucks on the way, though. Please?”

**Author's Note:**

> Me explaining this story to my beta who doesn’t know nct that well: ok so i tried to make mark sound like a Loser except you end up loving him anyway because despite his awkwardness he is Smooth sometimes--
> 
> also thanks to the person who inspired this u know who u are lmao


End file.
